


What the Sea Won't Tell

by hawkelf



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Age of Sail, Alternate Universe - Pirate, F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 01:28:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2048079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkelf/pseuds/hawkelf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of Jane Foster, merchant captain's daughter, and her adventures among pirates. </p><p>With excerpts from "Skirts, Ships, and Swords," the unconventional historic accounting by Darcy Lewis, who will never make a living as a historian. (after the introduction, these will be italicized)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Darcy's Introduction

If you read a lot of quasi-academic books on piracy, especially piracy during the so-called Golden Age, you'll see a lot of authors telling you in their introductions all about when their interest in pirates began. Trust me on this; I've read a LOT of them recently. It's like they feel the need to legitimize their research with stories about play dates and ex-girlfriends. Lucky for us all, I feel no such compulsion. I'm writing a book about pirates because I have lost control of my life, and I am not ashamed.

There was no warning signs for this. It all started with an internship I took one summer helping a not unimportant but nonetheless nameless lady historian do research for a project that I think she'll publish sometime in the next decade. I'll confess, I absolutely took the deal for the travel. And the free roof and food. Who doesn't want to visit four continents and tons of countries in three months? Of course, it ended up being mostly dusty archives and late night takeout, but I can't be too ungrateful. Yes, I originally used my allotted personal research time to play Flappy Bird, but eventually I found pirates, and the breadcrumb trail that I've glued together into this book.

Everyone has heard of a certain handful of pirates, whether they think they're cool or not. Blackbeard, Kidd, so on, whatever. Maybe they've heard of the most famous lady pirates, Anne Bonny and Mary Read, too. Historians have rehashed, argued, washed, and censored these two women so much that even the tiny amount of actual facts we have about them tend to come out completely garbled. Yet they remain the only Anglo-American women mentioned in our pirate histories. Do me a favor and look up the wikipedia article called "women in piracy." When wikipedia's doing a better job disseminating information than nine out of ten supposedly comprehensive books, you're fucking up. A lot. That said, my thanks goes to all of the authors listed in the further reading section of that page. They've done good work with tiny puzzle pieces. And if they hadn't left my lady pirates out of their books, I probably wouldn't have bothered digging for the information myself.

In case you were wondering, this isn't going to be a comprehensive study of much anything. This isn't going to be me applying my expensively-earned political science knowledge to the lives of yesterday's pirates, though I would totally read that book. No, this is way too short for those topics. This book, which doesn't even have a title at the time I'm writing this, is entirely about three pirates and what little information I could piece together on them.

Thor, Sif, and Jane were successful enough, but not legendary. Their story is remarkable for the details more than the exploits. They were certainly more cool than Calico Jack, though, and I feel like that alone means their story deserves publishing. Honestly, it's just my luck that their records were so fragmented and scattered that no one else had bothered to put them together yet. Or maybe that's because two of them were women in unusually well-documented positions of power, perhaps together more powerful than their by all accounts hunky captain. You decide. I'm just going to present the information as I found it, plus better organization and spelling. History, not politics. And major props to the Selvig family for letting me sift through those old journals, and for feeding me afterward. You guys are saints.

\- from the introduction of "Skirts, Ships, and Swords," by Darcy Lewis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a beta, and I haven't written a fic in half a decade. I am so sorry.
> 
> Pointless Research Source List:  
> "Women Sailors & Sailors' Women" and "Under the Black Flag," both by David Cordingly  
> "The Invisible Hook: The Hidden Economics of Pirates," by Peter T. Leeson  
> "Hen Frigates" and "Rough Medicine," both by Joan Druett who is fantastic even if her books focus on the 19th-20th centuries. 
> 
> Also the Joyful Molly blog and 'Pirates & Privateers: Medicine at Sea' by Cindy Vallar. Great jumping off points for online Age of Sail research.


	2. We Learned the Sea

_In 1722, the merchant ship Jannette left Boston bound for Great Britain, carrying a cargo of dried cod fish, pot-ash, and shingles. Also aboard they carried Erik Selvig, a retired British Navyman, a cooper, who'd lost his hand several years prior and was finally returning home. According to the accounts of crewmembers, as told by various newspapers, and Selvig's journals, it wasn't long before the voyage turned into a complete disaster._

_\- from chapter one of "Skirts, Ships, and Swords," by Darcy Lewis_

* * *

Jane turned seventeen on the fifth day of the voyage, spending the three days before fighting to produce candy on the great cabin's tiny stove. She'd brought the sugar along entirely for this purpose, and the threat of weevil invasion made her go through with it. Luckily, her antics seemed to keep Mr. Selvig entertained, watching her knocking things around and setting fire to her skirts. At least he laughed when she swore, and was willing to share plenty of stories of his own adventures at sea with only minimal censoring. Jane had spent her entire life at sea, was born in the same bunk she now slept in at night. She had the experience to know that taking on passengers might only annoy her father, but could turn a long voyage into a seeming life-sentence of bored propriety for her.

When her birthday came, the crew enjoyed the candies, burnt and simple as they were, and that was what really mattered. There wasn't much to be done that day, either, so there was music and foolishness, the seamen dancing and carrying on. The cook, who'd been on board since before Jane's mother's passing, even attempted a cake. It ended up more fruit than flour, but Jane didn't care.

Seventeen was a troubling age to reach still sailing aboard her father's ship, a thought that settled over Jane the next day. Most of the other sailing families that the Fosters knew hadn't kept their daughters aboard over the age of twelve, especially without a mother. Jane couldn't think of a single one that still sailed with her family after nineteen. They were all married to other captains, or on shore somewhere doing things that young ladies did on shore. Probably finding husbands. Which was fine, and they were probably most of them content and happy with their lives, or so Jane hoped, but she was still relieved that her own father was so much more lenient.

Her contact with the crew was limited, of course, but when she was a child he'd let her dance with them, hadn't stopped her from racing about on deck or climbing the ropes. Not until after her mother died and it became more difficult to keep an eye on her. And she'd been ten at that point, smart and reasonable enough to know it was time to sit still and learn other things. So her embroidery wasn't as neat as it could be, but Jane knew all the tricks of navigation her father could teach her, all the names and stories of the constellations. And she could still sew a shirt or a skirt, which seemed the sort of thing that actually mattered when it came to sewing.

Except that getting older meant getting closer to the time she'd have to leave the _Jannette_ and her father behind. He'd kept her with him for six years past when most captain fathers would, because he was lonely. But soon that time would run out, and she'd need to move on. To another ship and a husband, or to land. And whatever land meant.

The days after her birthday were spent quietly, since Mr. Selvig didn't demand too much entertaining. Instead, Jane was allowed to sit with her thoughts. It probably wasn't the best, but Mr. Selvig's mealtime stories at least brought her out of her funk a little.

Then, without warning, the first mate fell sick. Mr. Selvig and Jane's father consulted with each other and tried to treat him the best they could, but he was quickly followed by more. Within the week, six were dead and the last of those six was their captain. He died at the helm, working through his sickness despite Jane's protests. She was below decks at the time, and when they sent the cabin boy to tell her it felt like he'd pushed her right into the arctic sea. It was numbing and terrible all at once, it felt like she already hadn't stopped crying all week, since the first death, and this was beyond processing.

Perhaps it was for the best, that she'd already cried herself out, had already been filled and then more with grief. A ship was a hard place to properly grieve, and now she had no family left to share it with.

Mr. Selvig saw to it that the captain got a proper sea burial. He kept the men together, kept them from immediate panic and mutiny. The fact, though, and Jane was determined to focus on facts, was that neither Mr. Selvig nor any of the other remaining men, knew navigation. If it were left to them, they'd be lost, they'd run out of food, just sail aimlessly, hopelessly waiting to be found. They'd die in the end, and it would be ugly, because situations like this brought out terrible things in people.

So with half the crew still sick, and the other half still grieving and confused, Jane took up position at the helm, Mr. Selvig at her side. She would get them to London. She'd learned navigation alongside her letters, been better at it than sewing, had spent hours at her father's knee studying it like so many captains' wives and children. He'd delighted in her love for it, taught her the winds, the currents, the stars--

She would get them to London. And what came after, she'd decide then. After.


	3. Someone to Watch Over Me

_Society has always seen pirates both as charismatic, daring anti-heroes and as terrible, menacing criminals to be feared. These contradicting representations didn't originate in Hollywood - this time - but have been around since before Blackbeard started playing with fire. There are plenty of books on the subject already, and absolutely no need to delve into the matter here. Except perhaps for one, and its name is Thor Odinson. Of the pirates this book shines spotlight on only one is a man. And it would be a total crime for Hollywood to, in their inevitable summer blockbuster, portray him as the gallant, rescuing hero. There is absolutely no indication that this was the case. Actually, a pretty good argument could be made that it was Jane Foster who whisked Thor away from a short life as a middling, anonymous pirate with no historic trace for even a bored intern to pick up on._

_In 1722, there is very little to be said about Thor. He was born in 1699 or 1700 and, despite being the first-born son of a relatively well-off family, he went to sea in 1713 as a ship's boy. Some families of the time thought that such experiences would calm their wild sons; sort of an 18th century Scared Straight. It's hard to say for certain if this was the case with Thor, but in 1717 the_ William Shaw _was reported captured by pirates, with midshipman Thor listed among those conscripted. The senior officers were not so lucky, all dying reportedly gruesome deaths. The next mention of Thor is an accounting in 1721 which mentioned his name as one of the crew of the pirate sloop_ Sparrow _, a six gunner remarkable only for its inability to keep a captain._

_\- from chapter two of "Skirts, Ships, and Swords," by Darcy Lewis_

* * *

 

The wind was in their favor, filling the sails as the _Sparrow_ finally bore down on its victim. The merchant ship had been spotted but three hours previous, by the quiet little foreign man who seemingly spoke not French nor English nor Spanish. He'd come flying down from the topmast so fast that Thor had surely thought it would end in a death, not the first he'd seen go that way, but the man slowed expertly and landed on his feet only to dash off straight to the quartermaster and captain with the news.

They'd been out about a month with no luck yet, and the entire crew was getting restless. The shout of agreement to pursue was immediate, loud, and unanimous. Thor's heart flew up into his throat in the same instant and had yet to budge. Until now his place on the ship during conflict had been in the rigging, but old Tom'd died in the last outing's final skirmish, an ugly ordeal all around, and with the newest recruits being more than a head shorter than Thor that bumped him to battle position.

It wasn't a fear of death, he told himself, or of injury. Those threats were more than real enough in the rigging. He wasn't scared, had been a little excited when he'd helped run the colors up. But the merchant was fleeing, which meant a likelihood of conflict over an easy surrender. Tom and Butts had shown him fighting, shooting, and they'd been the best on the crew at the time. But in the five years he'd been in the crew, he'd seen more surrenders than not. He'd just assumed this would be one too. Killing and hurting were quickly becoming realities in his mind now, as things he'd have to do, not just witness.

Them or us. Fight or starve. That was the truth of it, or worse; fight or hang. Thor checked the silk ribbon slings holding his two pistols secure, the blade on his boarding axe. A few feet aft Butts, now the captain's first mate, held the gunnery crews at the ready. Forward, a few of the men were moving from speculating on the cargo - they could use some good lumber or food - to taunting each other, gearing up for the conquest. It wouldn't be long now. Minutes, maybe.

Suddenly the merchant turned, losing wind and speed. Thor could make out the first letter of its name, a J, and perhaps more but his attention was elsewhere as he saw that the merchant crew striking colors. A mutter rose amongst his fellows and Thor couldn't help but join in. Surrender? After a chase like that? They'd probably have to tear the entire ship apart to find whatever the merchant captain had thought so important to hide, but at least they'd likely all keep their limbs.

It took no time at all to reach the merchant now, its name clear as they came alongside. _Jannette_. It was a little ship, no taller than their own at its main deck, older and with little crew in evidence, even for a merchant. Odd.

Then the captain gave orders and boarding hooks were thrown across, pulled taut, fixed fast. The man beside Thor was shoved aside to make way for Gabler, their quartermaster, who hauled himself onto the rail and signaled with a jerk of his hand for Thor to do the same.

Clenching his axe in his hand, Thor did as he was told, as did others along the way. He was taller than any others on the crew and more wary of his balance because of it, so before he was rising from a crouch the captain gave another shout and Gabler leaped across. Thor scrambled to follow, adding his yell to the voices of his crewmates. Even with a surrendered ship, there wasn't any reason to not scare them a bit.

What followed was loosely organized pandemonium as the boarding party split off, some to herd the captured crew together and others to loot the ship under the quartermaster's sharp eye. Thor's captain, an Irishman named Dunn they'd elected only a week ago, directed him to guard their prisoners. There were only eight, from an older man missing a hand to an obviously scared young boy with long hair and clothes too big for him, and no hint of captain or officers.

Frowning, Thor tried to question some of the sailors about their captain, where he was and why he'd given them up to hide. None of them answered, though one did shoot a nervous glance at the old man and the boy. Thor caught Dunn's eye and shook his head. Whatever was happening here, the crew wouldn't talk easy.

Dunn shrugged. "Bring me the old one, then, let's see if he's got something to say."


	4. come with me now

  _When the_ Jannette _finally made port in London, it was a month late, missing half of its cargo, and run by only the barest bones of a skeleton crew. Newspapers reported the deaths of the captain, first mate, over half of the crew, and the only woman aboard; the captain's daughter, Jane Foster. Their deaths were credited to various things. Sickness early in the voyage was the most common problem, though a few died later of various accidents likely preventable if they'd had a full crew. Only one paper talks about Jane's death, quoting a Mr. Andrews as saying that she was killed mercilessly but quickly by the pirates_ _under the command of Captain Dunn, after they discovered it was a woman who'd been piloting the merchant ship._

_Mr. Andrews then disappeared from history, his one good deed done, as presumably he put this information out to keep Jane's reputation in the clear. Later, when Captain Dunn was captured, Jane's murder featured heavily in his trial even though he claimed to have never seen such a girl and no witnesses could be found at the time, since the_ Janette _'s crew had long since scattered to various other ships_. _He was found guilty, and the account of his execution is pretty grizzly, even by pirate execution standards.  
_

_If not for Mr. Selvig's journals, it would be easy to assume that there were simply two Jane Fosters, a perfectly natural mistake. However, Mr. Selvig wrote honestly about their encounter with pirates, and how Jane Foster became Jim the pirate boy._

__\- from chapter one of "Skirts, Ships, and Swords," by Darcy Lewis_ _

* * *

 

When the shout rang out across the deck, Jane was stood at the helm, Mr. Selvig by her side.

_Sail spotted!_ Hope of aid coursed through the crew, only to be dashed moments later.

_Pirates._

A general sense of unease settled swiftly onto the _Jannette_ , as some began to mutter about a curse on their voyage. Internally Jane half agreed with them; never before had she suffered such a troubled passage.

"You must hide, Miss Foster," Selvig said, his tone urgent. "If we hide you, and surrender immediately, maybe--"

Jane cut him off mid-sentence with a firm "No." She stood poised, even as her mind raced. She knew she ought to be terrified, and indeed she was scared, but what occupied the majority of her thoughts instead was a scheme. Or rather, several, and they formed quickly, writing and rewriting themselves even as she sprang into action.

"All hands on deck! Mr. selvig, take the helm. Thomas, raise Mr. Andrews! Tell him he's needed to steer. We are to run!" Her voice rang confidently over the deck as Jane handed over control of her ship to the old Navyman, and part of her marveled at it. Could that really be her?

But there was no time for that. Thomas, the acting cook, was already running forward to fetch Andrews, who had at least some experience manning the helm during races. She'd had him relieving her of nights and he'd proven capable and trustworthy enough. Turning to Selving, Jane ordered him to direct Andrews to flee, and then all but ran down the stairs to her cabin, skirts held high around her knees, shouting for Collins, the steward.

"Bring me Mr. Jacobson's spare clothing, and hurry," she said when she found him hiding her family's precious few valuables. Her mother's silver comb. "Now! Leave that!"

The door wasn't even closed after him before she began unpinning her hair from the sensible bun it had been locked in since her father died. There was much to do, and far too little time to do it in. Jane spared one last moment to again push down the giddiness raising from her stomach, then began stripping in earnest.

* * *

 

By the time the pirates caught them, everything was as in place as it was going to get. Mr. Andrews had outdone himself, giving Jane far more precious time than she'd expected. Now, he relinquished the helm to Selvig and moved to blend with what was left of the crew. The man was sensible, with three motherless children back in Boston. Jane could only hope that her actions would not get him killed.

Frowning, she tugged at her disguise. The sailor's trousers were nearly as full as the skirts she'd abandoned, if shorter, and though the shirt felt disastrously thin, the waistcoat did a good job disguising what little she had to hide. But she missed the familiar, warm safety of her shawl, and the cloth-wrap tail she'd wrangled her hair into felt clumsy. Jane felt she'd fidget out of her very skin like this. It didn't help that Jacobson - though he'd not been by any account a large man - still apparently wore clothing she felt was fit to drown herself in.

"Easy now," Mr. Selvig said, just low enough that Jane had to step closer and pay attention. "You've set the course. Time to see which way the winds will blow."

Jane took a deep breath and settled her hands in fists at her sides. Just in time for the first boarding hook to sink its teeth into the _Jannette_ 's rail. Soon, pirates swarmed the ship like ants on an apple, or like maggots in her soup two years ago. They'd been on this very same route then, but maggots threatening their food supply had been as dire as it'd got. Serious, but they'd come across a whaler on its way to port, happy enough to give them its excess supplies to make room for more profitable bounty. The captain and his wife had come over, and Jane had traded an extra shirt she'd meant for her father for embroidery thread in lovely blues and greens that she'd agonizingly picked into flowers on a pillow case.

These visitors could not be more different. The captain, or at least he seemed to be the captain, was a ragged Irishman with a face red enough to match his hair. He'd sicked a giant, brutish man on the crew. Even now the fellow was badgering them for the whereabouts of their captain. Jane's heart lodged itself in her throat as they all stayed silent. Their loyalty meant everything to her, even if it was in part self-serving. How could she have blamed them if they decided to give her up, and go against the cock-eyed plan she'd cooked for them? How could she blame them, if they chose to go pirate themselves in a bid to see shore alive?

But they remained silent, and in her heart she thanked them each and asked for their forgiveness.

Then the hulking buffoon was seizing Mr. Selvig by the shoulder and manhandling him to the pirate captain. Words had been said, but she hadn't been paying enough attention. Jane tore herself from her thoughts, planting her mind firmly in the present as the pirate captain drew his sword.

"We've no true interest in torturing a cripple, but it seems as though you know something about your captain that you're not sharing. Why don't you tell Captain Dunn and be done with it?" It was the giant talking, his voice firm and his hand square behind Selvig's shoulders. There'd be no fleeing him, that was for sure. Mr. Selvig looked pale when he glanced back at Jane. She gave him a nod, quickly covered by a coughing fit as that Dunn fellow glanced her way.

Selvig's shoulders slumped, and he quietly related their voyage thus far. Or rather, a version of their voyage wherein Jane was Jim, the captain's young but clever son, who knew how to use the prized navigational tools. He was a broken man as he told them of the decision to flee as they frantically tried to give the last of their dead a proper sea burial, and dispose of the first mate's wife's few last valuables. Out of respect for a dead woman.

Jane watched closely, attempting to look solemn, scared, and sad all at the same time as gauging the reactions. From what she could see, the pirates had bought the tale. Hook, line, sinker, dinner.

As Mr. Selvig wrapped up the last details she and he had agreed upon, Jane felt the eyes of the pirate captain fall on her, assessing, before he approached. She prayed her disguise would hold under this scrutiny, and that the _Jannette_ 's crew wouldn't make a fuss to protect her out of loyalty to her, her father, their own women, or God. This was her plan, and she'd not fully disclosed it to anyone.

"You are the one who brought this ship so far? At such a young age? And do you still have your charts and tools, or did you foolishly sink those as well?" He looked down at her as he spoke, and she ducked her head to keep from giving anything away.

"Yes, sir. That is, I did, and we didn't. And I'm near sixteen! Sir." Her voice quivered, half in fear of what might happen if she was discovered and half from the unaccustomedness of forcing it low. Jane dared to glance up on her last 'sir,' just in time to see the captain's lips quirk just so. He liked being called sir. He liked power. Good.

"How would you like to be a pirate, boy?"

Jane looked down again and clenched her hands tightly to keep her triumph from showing through. "I-- I have nowhere else to go. I suppose--"

"If the boy joins, so do I," Mr. Selvig interrupted, and Jane would have cursed him if she'd not seen it coming. If she'd not thought of this too. Blessed, foolishly kind man. "I'm a cooper. Plenty skilled."

Dunn laughed. "Go home to your family, old man, tell stories to your grandchildren and the local tavern. We've no use for a cooper with one hand."

But even the youngest boy with formal navigational training was of value, on any ship, and soon Jane found herself bid to gather what possessions she had to take over to the _Sparrow_. The giant - named Thor, apparently - watched silently as she bundled an extra shirt and a blanket her mother had stitched into a bag, as she searched out and pocketed the knife her father'd used for whittling.  Even when she, after hesitating, grabbed the "first mate's wife's" sewing basket and upturned it to grab the makings of a much more rudimentary kit, he didn't say anything.

He did take possession of her father's charts, however, and when she tried to protest his response was firm, but surprisingly gentle. "Our quartermaster, Gabler, will keep them safe, don't worry. It's part of what he does. You'll see. I don't know what they teach officers' sons about pirate ships, but it's all very fair."

Jane tightened her jaw. Already she was second-guessing this mad plan, and she'd not even left the _Jannette_ yet! What was she thinking? A girl dressed as a boy, volunteering to be a pirate? It was probably shock that had kept her men silent. Surely she could have found a captain husband quick enough once in London. That wouldn't probably have been too bad. There were generally plenty of the younger ones about, looking for a girl who didn't want to waste time with courting, one who understood sea life and speedy decisions. Selvig had family there that he said would let her stay. Now, the poor man couldn't even look at her he was so horrified.

Stupid, stupid Jane.

Done packing, she followed Thor back above decks. The other ship, the  _Sparrow_ , was so close now that men were stepping easily from one rail to the other, passing across casks of dried cod to be stowed wherever it was that pirates put their stolen cargo. At least the men would have some things left when they limped into London. They'd squirreled away the one chart that would help most, sticking it under a pile of rope bits waiting for splicing, and hopefully between Andrews and Selvig they'd make do.

Maybe with her gone, their ill luck would fade as well.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Jane found that Thor had led her to the railing and was taking her kit, tossing it lightly to the deck of the _Sparrow._ He then looked down, so far down, at her, and at where the _Jannette_ 's rail hit her in height, and chuckled. "You'd best hope you grow, or you'll be at the topmast for the rest of your life."

Jane scowled at him. Her entire family was sort of unfortunately short, but it had done them well in the sea trade for generations now. "Fine by me." And before he could even try to lift her across, she hefted herself up on the rail and hopped across on her own. Once across she turned to look at him defiantly, arms crossed.

Thor only laughed harder, his head tilting back. His ridiculously blond, ridiculously loose hair falling back over his shoulders. He only had it tied back at the top. If Jane tried that, she'd be eating hair for weeks, she thought.

Making a disgusted noise, she turned again to hop carefully to the more secure footing of the deck. Behind her, Thor quieted to a chuckle. Thank the stars she'd never really learned to hold her tongue, then; apparently that was welcome from pirate lads.

By the time Jane - Jim - whatever her name was now - had retrieved her one soft bag, Thor was across as well and beckoning for her to follow him below decks. He was talking about something; Jane caught "squared away" and "quartermaster" and "rations" but was too distracted by taking in everything around her. A pirate ship was very different from a merchant ship like the one she'd grown up on, though they were certainly related. Many pirate ships, she knew, had once been merchants, fishermen, or anything else that could be caught at sea. But the pirates sawed off entire decks, seeming to prefer one long flat one, and this one at least seemed to have different rigging. The captain's quarters were gone as well, which surprised her. Where did he sleep? And the skilled men?

Following Thor down, she got her answer, stopping her in her tracks.

How was she meant to maintain her disguise when everyone, well and truly _everyone_ , slept in the same space like sardines in a row?

As if he sensed her confusion, Thor put his hand on her back and gave her a gentle nudge. With amusement very evident in his voice, he said "Still in there, little one? Don't worry, you can bunk by me. I won't let the scary pirates get you." He pointed aft, and then began guiding her there much like he'd pushed Selvig along. Maybe a little gentler. When they reached the farthest row of hammocks, he indicated one for her and once again plucked her belongings from her hands. "You're very strange, aren't you?"

Jane glared at him, and tried to swipe her bag back. "I'm not strange, you're strange."

Thor grinned. "Calm down. You don't have a sea chest; you can stow your things in mine, for now."

Unable to think of much to say to that, Jane muttered about stupid giants and climbed into the hammock that was apparently hers. The excitement of her little plan was quickly wearing off now, leaving only raw nerves and fear. She'd done such a stupid thing.

Thor glanced at her after shutting his chest, but she didn't really notice. There were men everywhere, hundreds of them. She'd been so foolish to think she'd get away with this, to think that of all her options this one, which wasn't even a real option, was best. What would she do now?


End file.
